How Bad?
by leuska
Summary: Michael and Sara talk about what happened to her during the day he asked her the one thing only she could provide, his brothers freedom. Set in the future, S1, S2 spoilers. One-shot.


"How bad was it

Summary – Michael and Sara talk about what happened to her during the day he asked her the one thing only she could provide, his brothers freedom.

_This story is for Ladykaru, who reposted an old picture of Michael giving Sara the rose, that gave me, don't ask me why, this inspiration. :)_

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**How Bad?**

"How bad was it?"

Michael asks, pressing the subject they've been avoiding for so long. Sara sighs in frustration, pulling the covers up to her chin, suddenly feeling cold and uncomfortable. This was definitely not the subject she had in mind when thinking about today's topic of their casual bed time talk that over time became some sort of a ritual.

"Why do you want to talk about it?" She asks flatly.

"Well, why don't you?" He asks gently.

"I see no point in that. Reliving some of _my_ worstmemories and causing you bad conscience. What good does that do?" She asks sighing, wanting so badly for him to stop the inevitable conversation she has been dreading since the moment things finally got quiet, since they had a shot at this.

"It will close a gap. Fill in the blanks, bring us closer. And maybe it will bring some closure for us too…"

"It will bring us _pain_." She interrupts sharply, then continues in a calmer placid manner. "It will bring _you _pain Michael, don't tell me it won't. Why are you doing this to yourself?"

"Because I need to know. Because I want to know exactly what my actions caused."

"You already know everything you need to know. There is no point in dissecting the details. It's in the past, so please, leave it in the past." She says, her despair growing.

"Well, the past can get pretty colorful when you don't know the details and simply make them up them in your head." He says tightly, but says nothing more.

"I am sorry Michael. But I can't and won't discuss it." And she knows her past words weren't necessary anymore, since he already gave up, however, Sara still feels the need to apologize. She knows that sometimes, it can be hard being with her, sharing the past with her, because she is a person who doesn't like to look back much. He, on the contrary, needs the past to deal with the present. And so it happens on times they get to a dead point, like today. She needs to bring some space between them, so she turns her back on him to face her bed stand instead, a sort of unfortunately interpreted gesture that makes him feel crestfallen.

He switches of the lamp with a sigh, moving deeper into the covers himself.

"Goodnight Sara." His voice is barely over a whisper and she recognizes his tone asking for truce. She holds her breath at the dull ache of uncertainty of the choice she knows she is about to make.

"It was bad. Really bad. I took too much. I simply wanted all of it to stop." She says into the darkness and hears him take a sharp breath, the air catching in his throat.

"Did you…" he chokes and stumbles over his words "…want to kill yourself?"

"No." She replies as steadily as her pounding heart and shaky breath allows. "I simply took too much. I though the greater the pain, the greater the dosage. I am a doctor, and I know things don't work that way. But at that moment, I was not a doctor anymore, I was an addict again." It took her by surprise she almost stumbled over the last few words, red shame creeping into her cheeks, she though she was past that phase with him. Obviously another self-inflicted lie to add to her long list.

"You have to understand Michael…" she took a moment to lick her lips, blinking a few times as it would make any difference in the unlit room, her gaze burning a hole into the dark space that was supposed to be her bed stand, "…when you are in so much pain, you will simply do _anything_ to stop it. To shut down for a short while. And yes, it was bad. I could have died." She adds, her last words barely over a whisper. Only then does she dare to turn to her other side to face him and the only thing she can recognize in the dark are his glistering eyes, and so she hurries with her next words.

"But I _didn't_. I am here. Now. With you. And that's everything that matters."

She can't stand the distance between them anymore and quickly snuggles to him, against him, laying her head onto his chest, her hand covering his arm in a gentle soothing caress.

"I didn't want to tell you because I knew you would feel this way. To talk about this…it's not pouring acid onto my open wounds Michael, but onto yours." He is still not moving, nor is he talking and she finds herself putting small kisses all over his torso in a desperate attempt to soothe him, to cool his burning ache. Finally, she rests her head over his heart, her hand still slightly stroking his arm. They are laying like that for a couple of moments until he finally speaks again, his voice raspy, but despite everything strong enough.

"Tell me more."

"Michael…" this time, she begs him to stop.

"Please." A simple word she can't resist, not from him, ever, and right now, she hates that fact. She gives a resigned sigh.

"I went to see my father that day. After we talked in the morning. I went straight after that to his office." She says, then a thought strikes her. "Actually, it wasn't my first stop that day." She says, the faintest hint of shame tracing her voice. She is suddenly glad he can't see her face in the dark, for she is sure it gained a pretty shade of dark red.

"I stopped at a bar, ordered double scotch and sat there gazing at the glass for over an hour."

Michaels hand suddenly flutters under the covers and finds hers, squeezing it tightly and it is a great comfort to Sara, her heart finally unclenching at the thought of Michael responding to her again.

"By the time I was ready to flush the scotch down my throat, I saw on news my dad just got the VP nomination. It raised questions. And anger. So I went to confront him…" At this place she goes quite, not knowing how exactly and in what detail to tell him. Her short vacillation catches his attention, but he waits patiently for her to continue, not wanting to disrupt her fragile thread of though.

"He practically told me he didn't look at Lincoln's file I gave him and the two of us exchanged a few familiarly phrased accusations and I left to cool my head and think it all through at the riverbank." Sara let out a shaky breath. This was far more difficult than she anticipated, but she decided to go on with this. He wanted to know the truth and she would deliver.

"It took me a long time, but finally I decided I wouldn't let an innocent man get executed. Not to mention I couldn't leave _you_ get caught." She quips in a small voice.

"Why?" Michael asks, his tone curious and innocent and it creates a genuine smile at Sara's face.

"Why? Because Lincoln was innocent." She decides to walk around his question.

"'_Why_' to your second sentence. I mean, you must have despised me that morning. After everything that happened between us…" He rephrases gently and now she sees he is indeed genuinely puzzled.

"Well, I don't deny I was furious with you for putting me into that position. But I also knew, well, _hoped_, that you were the only person who had genuinely shown some real interest in me, in the way I felt about things, in a very long time. And I also owed you. I owed you with my life."

"I didn't help you during the riots so you felt you owed me." He cut in gently.

"I know. Now. And I guess I knew then. Certainly _hoped_ then." She says softly, a sad smile tugging at her lips as she feels his lips brushing the top of her head.

"You said I was the only one who showed interest in you then?" He asks carefully and hears her clear her throat before she utters a quiet '_yes_'.

"What else did he tell you?" Michael asks thoughtfully, a fair amount of apprehension audible in his voice.

"Who?" She replies.

"Your father." He says delicately and feels her tense up. "When you went to see him."

"The usual." Sara says, avoiding a more specific answer, but then decides there's been enough hiding and playing games.

"He said he wouldn't listen to accusations of a junkie and a thief. And that I was fairly comfortable when he used his power or bent the rules for me or my crappy boyfriends." She finishes and lets out another shaky breath, feeling her heart frantically pound and flutter in her chest, the only solid point now being the steady beating of Michael's heart against her ear.

She somehow expects him to reopen the topic of her pathetic past relationships, when he suddenly asks something completely different. Something so honest, private and true it almost breaks her heart.

"Do _you_ believe that? What your father said about you? That you were a thief and an addict?" The words come thick out of his mouth, full of various confusing emotions he feels at the moment and Sara can't help but notice with a soft squeeze in her chest he used the word '_addict_' instead of '_junkie_'. There is a deadly silence for a moment, then something in Sara's chest definitively shifts and she shuts her eyes tightly, breathing out only one single word.

"_Yes_."

Suddenly she doesn't know how but she is crying and his arms are all around her and she realizes that the real grief only just started, violent sobs wrecking her body, taking over all of her self-control. Michael holds her so tightly she couldn't move out of his embrace even if she wanted, all the same rocks her so gently she feels the space he is giving her and she is glad, for there are some scars on her soul she knows will always stay private.

It takes a while to calm down, but finally, her sobs seem to subside slowly, though tears are still occasionally running down her cheeks, meeting his bare torso and making the devil on Michael's chest weep too, finally sliding and disappearing into the sheets beneath him. They lay there in silence, not aware that both of them are thinking the same thing, only the name of the person in their heart and mind different.

Sara knows now, she's truly shown him the most deep and darkest corner of her soul, the part she almost never dares to visit herself, the part that always screams at her that as a daughter, she was a failure.

He is stroking her hair now, in the purest of all caresses, as if trying to brush away the truth she just shared with him and all she can think about and focus on is how her father comforted her this very same way during their last encounter.

"Are you alright?" He whispers in a concerned voice after a moment, as if wanting to make sure she was still there with him and she realizes she has been too quiet for too long.

"Yeah." _Another lie of enormous gravity. _She feels his hands gently cup her cheeks, forcing her head to turn so she now faces his, their eyes mere inches from each other and even in the dark she can see those beautiful eyes of his glister with so much emotion and care for her it makes her want to jump out of her skin.

"He loved you Sara. And no matter what you did would change his mind about that. The way he behaved towards you was not a fortunate one…but it was probably the only way he knew to let you know he cared. And although he didn't get to say it a lot, I am sure he loved you immensely as a daughter. You didn't fail him. By no means. The tape he left behind, that was a way of saying he believed and trusted you and was sorry for the way things turned out."

"I know." She whispers again and brings her hand to her head, tapping her index finger against her temple. "In _here._"

Then she moves her hand and rests it on his chest right over his heart. "But not _here._" He takes her hand and clasps it in his tightly, bringing it to his lips to kiss her knuckles softly.

"Wrong heart." He whispers. "This one doesn't believe a thing you just said." His voice is full of honesty and deep emotion. They lay still for a couple of moments, just staring into each others eyes, dark embracing them and they are silently communicating without the need to utter a single word. Then Michael decides to move on.

"What happened next? When you left your fathers place. You said you went for a walk?" She closes her eyes and lays absolutely still until Michael starts to wonder if she wasn't falling asleep, the gravely emotional evening striping her of all her strength to go on with this particular conversation. Finally she opens her eyes, boring them into his once again, her voice suddenly calm and strong again.

"Then I decided to leave that door open for you. For you and your brother." And although there is no hidden agenda in her statement, Michael realizes with a dull ache of shame she left the door deliberately open for only two people. Not ten.

"And then?"

"Then I returned to Fox River and before I left the infirmary, I took two phials of morphine from the cabinet and left asap, almost knocking over poor Katie who was coming towards me." Her narration is accompanied by a somehow odd smile that could be compared to a grimace and Michael knows that the topic of her best friend is still a sore one. They were trying to repair what they destroyed along the way, step by step, but there hasn't been time for Katie, no just yet, and Michael knows the more time passes, to less courage Sara has to contact her friend again. However, before he has any time to continue this particular train of thought, she started speaking again.

"Then I went to my car, drove to my apartment, sitting in the dark of my car, underneath my apartments windows, crying my eyes out for half an hour like a foolish schoolgirl." She finishes, the sarcasm dripping from her words and poisoning Michael's heart.

"What exactly _were_ you crying about?" When she doesn't reply, he bifurcates his train of thought. "That you would get into trouble? That you would lose your job? That you might anger your father? That you broke the law?" He finishes and Sara evaluates what he just said thoughtfully.

"I think maybe a bit of everything but nothing at the same time. I cried for what I was doing, and for what reasons. I cried because that day, I negated every principle I've ever believed in. I cried because I had two phials of morphine in my pocket and I knew I was going to use them and I hated myself for the weakness in me. And last but not least, I cried for losing you. For letting you fool me so easily, yes, but also for the mere fact of letting you slip out of my life. Practically _helping _you to get out of my life and right into trouble. Illegally." Michael doesn't know better but pulling her even tighter against him.

"You didn't betray your principles Sara. You _saved_ a man's life."

"I know now. But I couldn't know then. I only knew that besides of committing a crime, I was possibly making things even worse for you." She sighs sadly shivering at the sudden feeling of coldness and Michael doesn't waste a second. Before she knows it, she has the sheets wrapped securely around their joined bodies, a sigh of contentment escaping Sara's lips. The feeling will be short-lived, she knows, but for now, it offers a brief sensation of a sanctuary. Only when the feeling of warmth creeps back in does she continue.

"I went to my apartment, lit the fireplace and some candles, a quiet pathetic layout really. I lay down on my couch, drunk half a bottle a scotch and then took the morphine, eventually passing out a while shorter. The next thing I remember is waking up in the hospital, ironically, the exact one I once used to work at, all confused and scared." He is still holding her tight, but doesn't talk, and all of a sudden, she feels the top of her head go moist.

"Did you take that much by accident?" There it is, the final question.

"No." She admits and knows that Michael's heart breaks at this statement. "I knew exactly I was taking too much." She scrambles all her courage and looks up, into his face again, locking their eyes. "But I didn't want to kill myself either. I simply wanted to forget. Not to care, not to feel. Just for one day, one night before all hell would break loose. But it is true that if the police wouldn't have found me on time, I would have died." By the time she finishes, she feels Michaels chest shaking with sobs, his eyes closed, painful tears of anger at himself and sorrow for her escaping his eyes. She lifts her hands and cups the sides of his face with them, drawing soothing circles with her thumbs, uttering a soft '_shhh_'. She only prays his tears could wash out all the guilt and regret from the depths of his soul and heart, leaving only acceptance and peace and prospective. She wants to bring her lips to his but he pulls away, not able to accept her forgiveness just yet, not able to permit himself that luxury that soon and that easily.

Sara is not angry, she understands. But she doesn't give up her quest that easily either. So instead of his lips, she kisses his jaw, his cheek, his forehead and nose, and during this whole time he is crying the way she never saw him before and her heart aches terribly at that sight.

"_I love you._" She whispers, those three words everything she can come up with, the only words that seem appropriate. "_I love you so much._" She whispers again. "The choice I made I made myself."

"I _drove_ you to that choice." He spats angrily, still refusing to look at her, momentarily ashamed for his plain existence. "What kind of person does that make me?" He continues angrily.

"A desperate one." She utters softly and his eyes shoot open at the familiar answer she just offered. And suddenly, she can see, that with his eyes, also his soul opened to her.

"I am _so_ sorry Sara." He whispers desperately. "For everything I have done to you, for everything I have put you through." He chokes.

"I know." She replies honestly in an assuring hush.

"There is no way I will ever make this right." He whimpers with a teary sigh, almost like a lost scared child and Sara feels the urge to hug him and never let go.

"You already have." She says instead and kisses his lips tenderly, her heart stopping in dull joy when he doesn't pull away. She feels his hands raising up and tangling themselves into her hair, his heart beating quickly against her chest.

"I swear to God I will do everything in my power to make you happy."

"I know." She whispers and kisses him again, stroking the sides of his face with her palms. When they pull away, he has the so much characteristic thoughtful look of his, obviously pondering a sudden idea he just got.

"We could stop by the cemetery tomorrow." He says in a hesitant, most quiet voice. She wavers and he wonders if he just didn't make a huge mistake. She keeps staring into his eyes for along time, then something shifts in her own.

"I would like that." They share another tentative kiss before they snuggle into each others embrace once again. And for tonight, everything is right.

END

_Please, leave your thoughts. They help me get throught the day and hard struggle with my sorry excuse for English while writing fanficiton._

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